


keep me, then

by pentagemini



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Emotional Constipation, Explicit Sexual Content, Fuckbuddies, London, M/M, Oblivious Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi, confident gay jeon wonwoo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-05 23:37:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16377212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pentagemini/pseuds/pentagemini
Summary: The one where Kwon Soonyoung meets Jeon Wonwoo at a pub in Central London, and finds out some things are worth keeping.(Junhui and Jihoon exchange glances. Junhui looks like he’s about to say something, but he stops himself, and Jihoon sighs in time with Junhui’s hesitation. Soonyoung isn’t too bothered by their silence, used to leaving the pair at a lost for words. He hums, taking another bite of the sandwich. “It’s fun,” he tells them, smiling. “No strings attached.”For some unknown reason, Soonyoung’s words lack the conviction they had in his head.).





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello! i'm really really nervous to be honest, because this is my first time publishing nsfw, and more than that, something i genuinely like. i was planning on publishing this in one piece when it's done, but i have a gut feeling that if i choose to do that, it would /never/ get done. so here's the first chapter, i hope you like it! 
> 
> i want to thank sophie, for being my #1 consultant for everything london, and a good, supporting soulfriend <3 i love u  
> to ra (!!!) and amber, for being there when i get stressed, hyping me and supporting me- i love u and thank u  
> really to everyone who i nagged about this (annmarie, kat, vic) thank u ;; <3

Weirdly enough, it starts with a blowjob.

Soonyoung’s sitting so his back is pressed against the wall, the lights on, per Wonwoo’s request, and soon enough he wraps his mouth around the head of Soonyoung’s dick, making his thighs spread open on the bed and arch his back at the same time.

And _fuck,_ it feels good. Wonwoo is pressing soft kisses to his shaft when he’s not bobbing his head, licking down long strokes at the side of Soonyoung’s cock religiously.

“You’re really fucking good at this,” Soonyoung mutters under his breath, digging his fingers in the soft black hair. Wonwoo snickers around him, and it almost feels like he’s saying _I know,_ but he doesn’t stop for a minute. Soonyoung tilts his head back and gives in, not losing his hold on Wonwoo’s hair once.

It’s wet and sloppy and messy but it’s the perfect head, and Soonyoung hasn’t gotten one in a long time. He doesn’t think he’s ever gotten head this good, this earth shattering. He grips at the sheets and curls his toes, shockwaves of pleasure shooting up his spine, his cheeks flushed red and burning.

Wonwoo looks unbelievably pretty between his legs. This guy, wherever the hell he came from—though, technically, Soonyoung knows exactly where he came from— _The Rose_ pub, just a fifteen minute tube ride from Soonyoung’s apartment; and he was the one to whisper obscenities in Soonyoung’s ear after the pair shared the _best_ makeout session in the pub’s bathroom— _really_ knows what he’s doing. He seems so into it, turning Soonyoung on even more than he thought was possible. He’s got to be the hottest guy Soonyoung has ever had in his bedroom.

“Fuck, _Wonwoo_ ,” Soonyoung hisses, biting his lower lip and inhaling deeply when Wonwoo takes even more of him into his mouth and swirls his tongue around like it’s his fucking job, eyes closed shut. He keeps going from a slow pace to fast to slow again, picking up on Soonyoung’s reactions and following suit.

When Soonyoung comes he does it with a loud groan, deep from the back of his throat, one hand grasping at the sheets while the other is still clutching Wonwoo’s hair tightly. He’s seeing stars.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Soonyoung calls, Wonwoo wiping his glistening lips from remains of saliva, and comes to lay on his back next to Soonyoung, who’s completely spent and just _gone_.

“I know,” Wonwoo rasps, voice low, and he coughs slightly before speaking again. His lips are fat and red, and he’s absolutely beautiful. “I really gave it my all. You’re hot.”

“And you’re a keeper,” Soonyoung tells him, moving to lay on his side so he could look at Wonwoo properly.

“You should keep me, then,” Wonwoo smirks, and Soonyoung smirks back, sliding off the bed to situate himself between Wonwoo’s legs.

He’s going to make him see _red_.

—

Coming on three weeks, Wonwoo is the best fuckbuddy Soonyoung’s had in his life—it’s not awkward, or weird, and Wonwoo makes the best out of every situation. He’s fun to hook up with, and Soonyoung has been walking on afterglows for almost a month now. He’s practically shining out of his ass.

Naturally, Jihoon and Junhui pick up on Soonyoung’s blissful state, prompting them to dig and probe in his love life like it’s their business. And it’s not like Soonyoung wouldn’t tell, he isn’t hiding anything—he’s actually quite proud of his current bedroom affairs, so if they just asked nicely like any normal person would—Soonyoung would’ve loved to fill them in. Instead, it goes something like this:

“What the fuck are you so pleased about lately?” Jihoon asks like seeing his roommate happy is down right pissing him off, and Junhui smacks his shoulder so fast, muttering something under his breath, something that awfully sounds like _we agreed_. Junhui smiles apologetically on Jihoon’s behalf.

“What Jihoon here means to say,” Junhui says, fixing Jihoon a look, “is that we’ve both noticed you look rather, glowing these days.”

It’s a good thing Jihoon has Junhui watching over him, Soonyoung thinks. “You two make it sound like I’m fucking pregnant or something,” he says. This isn’t how Soonyoung thought he’d spend his lunch break, to say the least. It doesn’t happen often that all three boys are free to go eat lunch together, Soonyoung working a boring desk job (at his school, _The London Dance Company)_ and having fixed lunch hours, while Jihoon works as a freelance producer (when he’s not too busy with his music production degree), and Junhui being an animator working from home.

They’re sitting around a table at _Pret A Manger_. “Can’t a guy have mind blowing sex without his friends sticking their nose where it doesn’t belong?” Soonyoung asks with a stupid, shit eating grin on his face, knowingly giving the two exactly what they want.

“I fucking knew it!” Jihoon calls, way too loud, and quickly turns to mumble an apology for the people surrounding them. “I told you he has a boyfriend,” he nudges Junhui’s shoulder, smug.

“Who said I have a boyfriend?” Soonyoung retorts, nodding his head. “No boyfriend,” he says in statement, picking up the triangular piece of avocado sandwich from the black packaging and taking a big bite. “Just sex,” he says around a mouthful of food.

Junhui and Jihoon exchange glances. Junhui looks like he’s about to say something, but he stops himself, and Jihoon sighs in time with Junhui’s hesitation. Soonyoung isn’t too bothered by their silence, used to leaving the pair at a lost for words. He hums, taking another bite of the sandwich. “It’s fun,” he tells them, smiling. “No strings attached.”

For some unknown reason, Soonyoung’s words lack the conviction they had in his head.

—

It’s cold and rainy. Soonyoung, Junhui and Jihoon are sitting inside _Cuppacha_ , on the broad enough, fake grass covered windowsill, drinking their fit to season warm bubble tea. Soonyoung ordered caramel milk tea while Jihoon and Junhui got roasted oolong; it was always Junhui’s favorite, and now it’s Jihoon’s as well.

First they did a bit of shopping; Jihoon was miffed since he did most of his shopping online and couldn’t bother to enjoy their bonding time at all, even though the plans were originally Junhui and Soonyoung’s and he jumped on the opportunity to do something instead of writing his _annoying as fuck_ paper about amplifiers. After Soonyoung and Junhui bought new clothes for winter, Junhui mentioned about wanting to go to Chinatown, to check out that Korean skin care shop he always eyed but never went to.

 _Cuppacha_ is right next to it, so here they are now—sipping on milk teas, shopping bags at their feet and an annoyed Jihoon in the middle.

“I really want to try that watermelon face mask, it smells amazing,” Soonyoung tells Junhui, who nods, making sounds of agreement between sips.

“Come to my place for a proper sleepover. Skin care and movies on me,” Junhui says with a smile, shaking the pearls in his tea. “Jihoon, wanna come?”

Jihoon’s eyes widen, like he’s surprised Junhui even asked, and turns to look at him. “Not really my scene, but thanks,” he says, his feet dangling from their seat on the windowsill.

Junhui pouts, turning to look at Soonyoung again. “Any plans tonight?”

Soonyoung hums with the straw between his lips, and he’s about to answer Junhui’s question—but right at that very moment, a certain someone comes wandering in _Cuppacha_ —that someone being none other than Jeon Wonwoo, accompanied by a guy walking beside him.

Soonyoung almost chokes on his tea, alarming both Jihoon and Junhui. “That’s—that’s Wonwoo,” he croaks, “the guy I told you about.”

Junhui blinks, looking around the shop. “What? Where?”

“The guy with the glasses!” Soonyoung hisses, placing a hand on Junhui’s shoulder to stop him from being obvious.

Junhui’s jaw drops when he finally sees Wonwoo, and he turns to look at Soonyoung. “He’s _hot_.”

“Shut up,” Soonyoung mutters, his cheeks blossoming a rosy tint. “I can’t believe this is happening. Out of all the bubble tea joints in all of London, he walks into mine.”

“You’re being dramatic,” Jihoon says, rolling his eyes. “He’s with a guy anyway. He’s not even going to see you.”

That’s right. Wonwoo’s with a guy. Soonyoung was so caught up he didn’t even notice, but now that he has he feels a weird lump forming at the back of his throat—the guy is tall and outrageously handsome; his hair is brown and very soft looking, and he has a face that looks like it should appear on the cover of magazines, or movies, or fashion runways. He’s dressed impeccably yet casual, a simple white cotton shirt topped off with a blazer, black tailored pants and dress shoes.

Soonyoung thinks the worst thing is that Wonwoo doesn’t fall short—he’s wearing a light beige coat that ends below the knees, a sweater vest of the same color, layering a white buttoned up and a pair of black jeans. Only now does Soonyoung understand he had never seen Wonwoo in the daylight, at least the one London in winter can offer.

Without realizing, Soonyoung is staring.

He’s not doing a great job covering it up; Wonwoo sees him soon enough, and the smile that grows on his face is magnificent. Soonyoung’s eyes widen at the realization he got caught, and he shifts his gaze down swiftly and mutters a quiet _shit_ under his breath.

Wonwoo walks over, positivity dashing, wearing that brilliant smile of his. Soonyoung wishes he did choke on his tea.

“Hello,” Wonwoo says, but he isn’t even looking at Soonyoung. “I’m Wonwoo. Jihoon and Junhui, right?” Why is he introducing himself like this? Doesn’t he want to die from embarrassment, just like Soonyoung?

Junhui smiles, stretching out a hand to shake Wonwoo’s, who takes it gladly. “Wonwoo,” Junhui says, “I’m Junhui. We’ve heard _so_ much about you.”

Jihoon bites down a laugh at the sound of Junhui’s words, and Soonyoung has to gather everything in his power not to send him a death stare. “He never shuts up about you,” Jihoon adds, only to prolong Soonyoung’s torment. The bastard.

What the fuck’s going on? Junhui is supposed to be his very, _very_ shy friend if he remembers correctly—he’d expect this from Jihoon, he’s useless, but Junhui? His bundle of treasured honesty? Is this what betrayal feels like? And how are they lying with such straight faces?

Wonwoo smirks, and for once Soonyoung doesn’t appreciate the sight of it. “Have you?”

“Wonwoo—what are you doing here?” Soonyoung asks, his tone perhaps impolite, but there’s no way in hell he’s going to let Junhui and Jihoon make a laughing stock out of him. He thinks this is enough to last them for the upcoming year, that is if Soonyoung doesn’t decide to revoke their friendship card.

“What do you reckon I came to do?” Wonwoo asks rhetorically. Soonyoung despises how easy it is for Wonwoo to tease him, and how hard it is for him not to tease Wonwoo back; but this isn’t the time nor the mood. He’s awkward. He doesn’t want to be here. Especially when Wonwoo has that unbelievable smile on his face.

(The one that makes every other smile lack in comparison).

Wonwoo laughs, as if the little shit knows about and enjoys Soonyoung’s unparalleled suffering, or that he’s entirely oblivious to it. “Mingyu and I are on our way to catch a movie and felt like bubble tea.”

A moment after Wonwoo says that, the tall and annoyingly good looking guy comes to stand next to him, holding two Japanese matcha milk teas.

“Friends of yours?” He smiles at Wonwoo, handing him one of the cups.

“Mingyu—this is Soonyoung, Jihoon and Junhui,” he gestures with his hand.

Mingyu grins, showing a mildly crooked tooth to what could have been a perfect smile. It makes Soonyoung even antsier, because now he can’t even hate him with passion, knowing he’s not foolproof. Mingyu raises his eyebrows at Wonwoo. Wonwoo nods. Soonyoung wonders what’s that about, considering to ask if he missed a memo. His thoughts go flying when Mingyu turns to speak.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Soonyoung,” _finally?_ He extends a hand to shake Soonyoung’s, who obliges with a slightly tense face and a fair amount of confusion.

Wonwoo never mentioned a Mingyu once. Soonyoung doesn’t recall ever hearing that name. _He_ did mention Jihoon and Junhui, in late night conversations under blankets or in a rush phone call before he got to Wonwoo’s flat, because they’re his _friends_.

That begs the question: if Wonwoo never mentioned Mingyu, is he more than a friend?

“You too,” Soonyoung puts on the most convincing smile he can muster, shaking Mingyu’s hand with intent. “I hope you enjoy the movie,” he adds, his words sounding unreasonably spiteful as they come out of his mouth.

It seems like Wonwoo is taken aback, his eyes narrowed at Soonyoung as if he’s done something wrong. The lump in Soonyoung’s throat is even more present as Wonwoo’s eyes stay trained on him. He coughs to try and relieve it, wrong to assume he could wheeze his way out of this.

“Thanks,” Wonwoo says eventually. He still sounds incredibly genuine, and he turns to look at Mingyu. “Shall we?”

“We shall,” Mingyu replies, turning on his heel and walking away. Wonwoo lingers for another second.

“It was nice meeting you,” he tells Jihoon and Junhui, who spent the entire time seemingly dumbfounded at what was happening in front of them. “It was good seeing you, Soonyoung,” Wonwoo flashes another smile, unneededly fond, and follows Mingyu out the shop.

It’s quiet now. Junhui and Jihoon exchange glances, like they always do after Soonyoung makes a fool of himself. At least he feels like he did.

“Do you think they’re going on a date?” Soonyoung asks Junhui. He doesn’t know why.

Junhui looks like he’s onto something. “Why? Would that upset you?” He strikes back with his own question. Soonyoung feels his entire body tense up.

“No,” Soonyoung answers calmly, despite himself. “Why would I care? It’s not like—“

Soonyoung’s phone buzzes against his thigh. “It’s not like—like I _like_ him or anything,” he continues, pulling the phone out from his pocket.

_Wonwoo, 3:36pm_

_you looked so hot. come over tonight._

 Soonyoung swallows, quickly putting his phone back. “Are we done here?” He asks his friends, feeling ready to leave the scene.

They nod, and both rise from their seats next to each other on the fake grass, Jihoon carelessly picking up the shopping bags before Junhui can even try, and bickers with him when Junhui attempts to grab them from his hands.

“You coming?” Jihoon asks when Soonyoung doesn’t move.

“Go outside, I want another tea. Didn’t get to drink mine it while it was still warm,” he excuses. The two shrug at him, still quibbling on their way out.

Soonyoung goes to stand in line again, taking his phone out. His thumbs ghost over the keys, but he doesn’t type anything. He smiles to himself as he reads the text over and over again, before closing the app on his phone and placing it back in his pocket.

"One warm Japanese matcha milk tea, please.”

—

“You hungry?”

Soonyoung ponders a moment before answering. “I mean, yes,” he says teasingly, a smirk curving at the side of his lips. “I can think of a few things I’m hungry for.”

Wonwoo laughs. “I’m being serious. I’m just finishing up here, still need to wrap up all my equipment and drop it off at my flat. We can go get something to eat if you want.”

Soonyoung presses the phone against his shoulder, walking from the couch to his bedroom to look at himself in the mirror. “Get something to eat?” He repeats, running his fingers through his hair. He didn’t think about going out. He did think about going out to go back in. Wonwoo’s apartment, that is.

“Yes, Soonyoung, eat. You know, that thing where people put food in their mouth and chew. Remember?”

Very funny. “Quit mocking me,” he mutters, “or you’re going home by yourself tonight.”

“Be ready in twenty,” Wonwoo says. Soonyoung swears he can feel his smile through the phone.

“Right, right. See you then.”

Pick Soonyoung up. That’s new.

  
An hour later they’re at the pub, _The Moon Under Water_ , five minutes from Wonwoo’s apartment, right off Piccadilly Station. Soonyoung is stuffing his mouth with french fries and wiping his fingers on a napkin, Wonwoo’s burger almost gone.

“What’d you shoot today?” Soonyoung asks, not bothering to look up from his plate.

Wonwoo chews and swallows his food before answering, unlike Soonyoung. “Birthday,” he says, curling a fry in some mayonnaise.

Wonwoo’s an event videographer. When he first told Soonyoung this, his reaction was to ask if he’s one of those guys who film wedding videos, to which Wonwoo assured him he’s not.

“Five long hours, typical London girl. Her father hired me,” Wonwoo takes a sip from his coke. “Gonna take me a week to go through all the footage. The madman wanted me to shoot everything, it was intense.”

“You make fine living out of this,” Soonyoung points out. “Out of something you love.”

Wonwoo smiles. “Can’t argue with that.”

“Your apartment sure can’t,” Soonyoung smiles back, only a little bit bitter.

(Soonyoung lives in Southwark, about forty minutes by foot from where they are now, sharing a lousy council flat with Jihoon. He’s allowed to be sour about this).

“And now that we’ve mentioned it, why don’t we go? To your place?” He leans an elbow on the table, his cheek pressed against his hand.

“Are you working tomorrow morning?”

Soonyoung doesn’t understand where Wonwoo’s going with this. “No,” he crosses his arms. “Have a class at two and work starts at five.”

“Then what’s the rush? We’ve been here,” Wonwoo pulls his chair back to take his phone out from his pocket, looking for the time. “Just a bit over an hour. I thought we can go to _Tiger Tiger_. You said you dance.”

Something creeps up on Soonyoung, a feeling similar to the one he had a month ago when Jihoon and Junhui grilled him about his newfound friend. It feels like heat building up in the pit of his stomach, like a shiver going down his nape to make all the little hairs stand up. Like Soonyoung deeply needs to scratch something, but he can’t figure out what’s itchy.

The look on Wonwoo’s face is unexplainable. He’s smiling, but Soonyoung isn’t sure what he sees.

“We can go dancing,” he ends up saying, “but I’m paying for drinks. I don’t need you to flash the cool money you make with your cool job in my face. Burger and fries is enough,” he declares, shoving his hands in his pockets, standing up while Wonwoo remains seated.

“Deal,” Wonwoo says, and he sounds _different_ , but Soonyoung can’t quite pinpoint how. “You go wait outside, it’s a two minute walk,” he rises from his chair, leaning to place a soft kiss on Soonyoung’s cheek before walking away to pay for their meal.

Soonyoung doesn’t move, raising a hand to touch the cheek Wonwoo just kissed. He shifts his head to peep at Wonwoo, who’s standing at the counter looking as handsome as ever. But suddenly, Wonwoo turns his head to catch a glimpse of Soonyoung himself—probably to check if he’s gone outside—making Soonyoung remove the hand from his cheek, quickly scampering outside with his eyes taped to the ground.

Drunk and giggly, Soonyoung and Wonwoo walk along Piccadilly street with their arms curled around each other, steps uneven. Soonyoung is still laughing at a joke Wonwoo made an hour ago, Wonwoo’s laughing at Soonyoung laughing and at his laughter all combined. It’s late but Soonyoung doesn’t know how late, because London is awake and alive and very pretty—lights and color at every corner, albeit the cold and dark. The contrast between the gray city and the colorful scheme of it still fascinates Soonyoung to this day, London somehow making him feel safe and sound even when he gets caught in the rain or wanders a lost road he doesn’t know the end of, or what’s expecting him on the other side.

Wonwoo is also pretty, with his soft black hair peeking out his hood and a gentle smile to his face, talking about this and that through the roundabout. Soonyoung might be drunk but he thinks Wonwoo is the most beautiful man he’s ever seen, especially when he laughs and even more when he laughs at something Soonyoung said. They went dancing and Wonwoo surprised Soonyoung with quite a few dance moves, his body still a bit stiff because he’s long and boney and needs to get used to a space before moving too much. But they danced together and Wonwoo held Soonyoung’s hands and it felt a bit warm, even when Wonwoo’s hands were cold.

Wonwoo slows his pace down, causing Soonyoung to slow his too until they’re both standing in place, looking at each other, and everything suddenly stops. There are clouds threatening to rain above them, London’s trickles that go off and on again. Wonwoo pulls the sleeves of his hoodie over his hands, straightening the jean jacket that layers it. Soonyoung is quiet, he doesn’t know why they stopped but he’s fishing for clues on Wonwoo’s face—but he has that same unexplainable expression on, with that smile, where Soonyoung isn’t sure what he sees. Wonwoo raises his hands to place each on Soonyoung’s shoulders, the hood on his head making him look smaller than Soonyoung is used to witness.

“How long’s it been?” Wonwoo asks, his gaze piercing through Soonyoung.

Soonyoung is confused. “How long’s it been? Since what?”

“Since I met you, in that pub, _The Rose_ , was it? And we kissed in the bathroom and you took me home and I sucked you off on your bed.”

Soonyoung chuckles, Wonwoo’s description short and to the point. “T’was before Halloween, right? So… a bit over two months. Why?”

With his hands still on his shoulders, Wonwoo pulls Soonyoung in for a hug. Soonyoung freezes, stuck in place with Wonwoo’s long arms around him, his own draped at his sides. But Wonwoo keeps holding him, unmoving and tight, and Soonyoung’s hands slowly rise up to envelope Wonwoo too, who has his chin on Soonyoung’s shoulder. “No reason,” Wonwoo says, barely above a whisper—and despite the city being loud and busy—Soonyoung hears him painfully clear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @woozitown on twitter! feedback is greatly appreciated!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi hello!!! chapter two is here! i read all your comments and i'm so glad and thankful!!! feedback is greatly appreciated as always, please let me know what you think <3 i hope you enjoy this one!

They’re not that drunk anymore, but there’s a lingering effect; similar to bliss, Soonyoung would say. There’s a deep want in the pit of his stomach, and when they reach Wonwoo’s door and step into the darkness of his flat, Soonyoung’s lips find Wonwoo’s faster than he ever imagined, kissing him fervently yet softly. Wonwoo inclines, placing both hands on the other boy’s hips, pressed together as they move awkwardly towards Wonwoo’s bedroom, stopping at the edge of his bed.

Between kisses Wonwoo tugs at the hem of Soonyoung’s shirt, clumsily trying to pull it over Soonyoung’s head. They stumble a few times—Soonyoung’s head gets stuck from both of them trying to take it off simultaneously, but they work around it, giggling—and when Wonwoo’s face is visible again, Soonyoung is met with an overwhelming sight: it’s got to be the fondest smile he’s ever received from Wonwoo, resulting in Soonyoung, completely starstruck, losing his balance, tripping over and falling with his back on the bed. Wonwoo laughs quietly, climbing on top of Soonyoung and leaning down to press barely-there kisses to his jaw, causing him to inhale sharply. “Beautiful,” Wonwoo murmurs, his lips still ghosting Soonyoung’s neck, who’s suddenly very aware of Wonwoo’s movements, feeling his eyes close and the following flutter of his lashes, hoping to god Wonwoo can’t feel how fast his heart is beating.

They kiss until their lips are red and swollen, their breathing staggered every time they break apart. Threads of spit are connecting their lips and the tightness in Soonyoung’s jeans clouds him. He wants to say something, but he can’t find his voice or his words, a million thoughts as if operating on nothing. Afraid he might say the wrong thing if he tries to speak, Soonyoung chooses to stay quiet, let Wonwoo breathe shallowly against him, silently looking in Soonyoung’s eyes.

“Should I?“ Wonwoo starts by asking, tearing his gaze from Soonyoung to signal at the nightstand where lube and condoms rest inside a drawer. Soonyoung nods before Wonwoo gets up to grab both necessities, peering with his palms propped up behind his back. Soonyoung watches Wonwoo carefully as he returns to sit on his thighs, placing a hand on the small of Wonwoo’s back, almost like a reflex.

They had sex countless times.

“Do you want—“ Wonwoo pauses. “I don’t need to prep you if you don’t want to,” he says, fingers already working on unbuttoning Soonyoung’s jeans and undoing the zipper. “You don't need it.”

But this strangely feels like the first.

“I want it,” Soonyoung’s voice comes out exceptionally small. He clears his throat. “I want it.”

Soonyoung’s jeans are already loose on his hips and all it takes is one pull at his ankles for Wonwoo to discard the pair along with Soonyoung’s briefs somewhere on the floor. He grips Soonyoung by the waist and moves him up the bed so his head is resting on one of the pillows, diligently making sure Soonyoung is comfortable. “Good?”

“Good,” Wonwoo presses a soft kiss to his lips but backs away fast, leaving Soonyoung to chase the kiss, eyes closed and lips stuck in a pout. Wonwoo laughs again—the guy can’t seem to stop laughing and Soonyoung doesn’t understand why, his stomach is already twisting in knots, or maybe nestling butterflies, but he wouldn’t dare say it, or think about it, or feel it. Wonwoo’s expression stays fond and fixed on Soonyoung as he takes off his shirt and shimmies out of his jeans, licking his lips before picking up the bottle of lube and squeezing a decent amount on his fingers, rubbing it warm for Soonyoung.

It takes one deep breath and the touch of Wonwoo’s (other) hand stroking his cheek to calm Soonyoung down. He melts into the hand, heartbeat finally going back to normal. The hand on his cheek slowly travels down with fingers drawing circles on his chest and lower abdomen, all the way to his thighs, where it stops to grip and place over Wonwoo’s shoulders, settling into place, before pressing a lube coated finger against his entrance, leaving Soonyoung gasping for breath. Wonwoo was right, of course—Soonyoung doesn’t need this at all, and he quickly finds Wonwoo adding a second digit, and a third, rocking in and out of Soonyoung while licking his lips at the sight. Soonyoung doesn’t know, his eyes are closed shut as he lets out an obscene sound from his mouth, moving his own body to the rhythm of Wonwoo’s fingers before the pools of heat gathering in his gut are too much and _he needs Wonwoo to fuck him right now._ At least that’s what he thinks he uttered, muttered, what the fuck ever—he needs Wonwoo.

Wonwoo takes out his fingers, making Soonyoung squirm at the sudden emptiness. Soonyoung places both hands on Wonwoo’s chest, pushing him down and switching positions with him, climbing on top of Wonwoo.

“Your favorite?” Soonyoung asks, albeit croaky from moaning and gasping. Wonwoo nods, seemingly speechless. His cock, hard and twitching, is pressing against his stomach; Soonyoung doesn’t waste any time, leaning down and taking it into his mouth with a sucking noise bordering in pornographic, knowing Wonwoo would laugh, and he does. Soonyoung smiles around him.

“I like this,” Wonwoo says, running his fingers through Soonyoung’s hair, moving to cup his cheek. “And you.”

It’s embarrassing, how fast Soonyoung’s cheeks turn red and hot, and he forces himself to look away from Wonwoo, swallowing thickly. The straightforwardness Wonwoo possesses is something out of the ordinary, even for Soonyoung, and that same never-going-always-growing lump in his throat aches him. He tries his best to smile calmly, not bearing too much teeth, Wonwoo’s words ringing and echoing in his head. Wonwoo, like a ball of light and savior of lost and confused souls, Soonyoung being in the midst of them—doesn’t dwell on the boy’s—currently gripping his dick in his hand—inability to respond,  leaning to press a soft kiss to Soonyoung’s forehead, for good measure.

He lets out a shaky breath when Wonwoo slides on the condom, grabbing hold of his hips to align Soonyoung’s entrance with his cock, and Soonyoung slowly lowers himself onto Wonwoo’s dick, gasping quietly faced with the fullness again. They’ve never been this quiet—okay, _he’s_ never been this  quiet. Wonwoo _can_ be quite the talker, when he wants to be. In bed, he’s always reticent. The complete opposite from Soonyoung.

The way he sees it, Wonwoo has a tendency of being unreasonably loud with his eyes; sharp when you look at them, but achingly soft where it matters. He never looks away from Soonyoung, he can feel it even when he closes his eyes as Wonwoo sets a pace to the rhythm in which Soonyoung rides him. He leans down to bury his face in the crook of Wonwoo’s neck, moans escaping his mouth as Wonwoo whispers sweet nothings and tightens his hold on Soonyoung’s waist.

This is intimate. Far more intimate than any hook-up they had until now, far more intimate than any hook-up Soonyoung’s had in his life, far _too_ intimate for Soonyoung’s heart to bear. Wonwoo is flesh and bones under him, but he’s unmistakably real, no longer Wonwoo From The Pub or any other variation Soonyoung had classified him under, in the Wonwoo file of his brain. Soonyoung feels like he’s about to burst, every prickling of pleasure his body can sustain being multiplied, his skin no longer skin, more like a resemblance of something that used to be skin, before it became something for Wonwoo to touch in every way possible, except for one.

Wonwoo is whispering his name. _Sweet_ , he says, _perfect_.

Soonyoung’s slides a hand between them to stroke himself, and Wonwoo comes unexpectedly, a mere second before Soonyoung does all over their stomachs. Their bodies are covered in sweat from being glued to each other alone, Soonyoung breathing heavily against Wonwoo’s neck as the other does the same against Soonyoung’s shoulder, pressing gentle kisses to the blade of it.

As soon as reality hits, Soonyoung removes himself from Wonwoo, rolling over on his back next to him. Now he feels blank but operating on a million, too boneless to move or speak, and in the corner of his eye he can see the smile spreading across Wonwoo’s face. He watches silently as Wonwoo sits up, watches as he leans down with that smile to kiss Soonyoung on his lips, throwing the condom away and walking naked into the bathroom.

Soonyoung falls asleep to the sound of running water, contemplating the things he finds worth keeping.

—

A week passed, and winter break was finally set to motion. Soonyoung has been painfully sending one word texts, strictly hanging out with Wonwoo at his flat, never falling asleep there. He’s doing everything he can to keep Wonwoo in his fuckbuddy box—he came to the conclusion that _good_ things are worth keeping, and that the two of them have a good thing going on. Why on earth would he want to ruin that with things like, feelings, or whatever? Not that those type of feelings exist. They don’t. This is purely hypothetical.

(That is, if you don’t count the: fondness in Wonwoo’s eyes, the way Soonyoung’s heartbeat increases every time Wonwoo does nothing but look at him, uncontrollable laughter bubbling from both of them, kisses so sweet he just might get diabetes, and long nights of staring at the ceiling of his own bedroom, heart still weighing on the one question he thought was resolved: what constitutes as worth keeping.).

He’s being stupid. He doesn’t need Jihoon or Junhui to tell him that in order to know he’s being stupid, he can feel it when he wakes up to another text from Wonwoo, who even started using emojis just to get any semblance of a reaction from Soonyoung, until he goes to sleep. And would he dare say, miss a particular set of long arms enveloping him. (He won’t.).

It’s so cold. December is cruel. Even Soonyoung, whose body is warmer than others (he already has a specific person in mind), has been reluctant to get out of bed and face the cold December air, wear his boots every goddamn day and one hundred layers just to go get milk for his tea. It’s luck that he bought that massive burgundy coat—when Junhui, Jihoon and him went shopping that one time.

Protected with a shirt under a long sleeved black turtleneck, and his coat (gloves, needless to say, are maintaining his sanity at this point), he steps out of his shitty apartment, immediately cursing under his breath. Junhui and him planned to go Christmas shopping before it’s too late, even though it definitely already is—they have a little over a week until Christmas Day, but the pair’s laziness combined is something really extraordinary, especially in this weather. Soonyoung moves fast, getting on a tube to Oxford Circus where Junhui is supposed to be waiting for him.

Oxford’s festive light bulbs have been decorating the street ever since November, a good marketing technique Soonyoung rightfully admires, as any Christmas lover would. They shine less during the day, only serving as a reminder of the holiday to come, but twinkle beautifully as night falls. Junhui is standing at the intersection between Oxford street and Regent, in a long black wool coat, mindlessly looking at his phone screen as Soonyoung approaches.

“Got somewhere to be, pretty boy?”

Junhui looks up from his phone, smiling at Soonyoung. “Are you, by any chance, hitting on me, sir?”

Soonyoung laughs, curling his arm around Junhui’s. “No luck this time,” he sighs dramatically.

They take the Central line to Shepherd’s Bush, their destination being a shopping centre—Westfield London, it’s called: and it’s fully packed when they walk in, not to their surprise. Junhui is already squealing at the amount of Christmas decorations, pointing here and there for Soonyoung to see. Soonyoung loves Christmas shopping no less than Junhui does. It’s been their tradition for a few years now.

(Jihoon, on the other hand, isn’t the holiday’s biggest fan; he “sucks at gifting”, according to him, but Soonyoung’s ever growing _Cars_ themed household goods and him tend to disagree).

They go in a shop, looking through aisles of hundreds of different gifts, ranging from decorative mugs to houseplants, stuffed toys for children and an impressive variety of advent calendars. The thing is, Soonyoung’s mind is on some other plane. Preoccupied. It’s almost tangible, but only to him, luckily enough, and he nods appreciatively when Junhui picks up a mug and says something about the way it looks, exhilarated.

They buy gifts for Jihoon and their families: Junhui has been saving money for months to buy Jihoon a record player, to replace his old and barely working one. He told Soonyoung Jihoon rarely touches his vinyl collection these days, which is a shame. Soonyoung thinks Junhui is a good friend, and that Jihoon is lucky to have him. He also thinks the line between friend and something more is getting blurry.

Soonyoung buys Jihoon a vinyl, inspired by Junhui. He decides on _Either/Or_ by Elliott Smith after Junhui reassures him Jihoon doesn’t already own it. He gets an advent calendar for his mom, pricey so he knows his money worth but not too much so she won’t yell at him for spending too much money on her, and new pair of boots for his dad. Junhui buys a variety of winter teas for both his parents, and soon enough the two separate to buy gifts for each other.

After visiting three different shops around the mall, Soonyoung gets three different things: a packet of powder extracted from what’s supposed to be one of the spiciest peppers in the world—to add to soups and other dishes; shirt and two pairs of socks with drawings of cute kittens all over them, matching; and a phone charger that’s three meters long. Not the best gifts in the world, but Soonyoung thinks Junhui would put all three to good use, and he smiles to himself as he stuffs the transparent plastic bag of Junhui gifts inside his backpack.

They agreed to meet at the entrance when finished, and he heads to wait for Junhui there, taking his phone out of his pocket. No texts from Wonwoo just yet; it’s still early. Soonyoung slides his thumb to unlock his phone, going into _messages_ , closing the app, going in a second time, closing it again, until eventually locking the screen and shoving his phone back to his coat pocket. Wonwoo must be sleeping.

Five minutes later Junhui is still nowhere to be seen, and Soonyoung is getting bored. He notices that on the right side corner, away from the chaos of Christmas shoppers, a small shop called _Focus_ stands. Soonyoung hesitates, taking one step in the shop’s direction before halting in place. What is he doing? Is he genuinely considering buying Wonwoo a Christmas present? The complete opposite of keeping Wonwoo in his box, the box Soonyoung has been travailing over.

Soonyoung takes another step.

A man, maybe his dad’s age, is sitting on a high stool behind the cash register, wearing a striped sweater and square glasses, the lenses so thick they appear as if about to pop out of frame. Soonyoung walks in quietly, carefully making sure not to make any sudden movements and knock something over; dozens of cameras and lenses sit in rows on wooden shelves, some collecting dust and some looking brand new.

A sigh is heard from behind him. “Can I help you?” The man is still sitting on the stool when Soonyoung turns around, eyes fixed as he flips over pages in a magazine. His question contradicts his demeanor, and Soonyoung, who doesn’t wish to be a bother, nods his head and mumbles a quiet _no thank you_ in the man’s direction, turning to leave the shop. “Looking for a gift?” He asks, jumping off the stool and walking towards Soonyoung.

“Uh—“

The man doesn’t waste any time, signaling Soonyoung to move out of his way as he fixes the glasses resting on the top of his nose, bending down to brown boxes on the floor underneath the shelves. He digs around for a second and sounds of cardboard boxes being moved around fill the shop. “Here,” he says, turning around while holding a box labeled _not for sale_ , shoving it into Soonyoung’s hands.

“Sir, I think you have a mistake—“

“Nonsense, I rarely make those,” the man shakes his head. “That’s a Nikon F2. You’re not going to find this camera in the price I’m offering,” he says. “You better take it.”

Soonyoung looks at the man, and then at the box he’s holding, bewildered. “The box says not for sale, sir.” He points to where the letters are written in black over brown. “See?”

“Do I look like I can’t read?”

“No! I’m not—I’m just—“

“I know what the box says. Do you want to buy the camera or not?” At this point, Soonyoung feels like he became the exact opposite of what he had intended—a huge bother. The man sighs again, like he’s truly disappointed in Soonyoung. “Your loss.”

Soonyoung holds the box tighter against his chest. “No! I’ll—I’ll buy the camera,” he says, already fishing his wallet from his jeans pocket.

“You’re making a very smart choice here,” the man says, gesturing Soonyoung to follow him towards the register. “In the Christmas spirit and all that,” the man says, fishing out an old calculator from a drawer beneath the register, hitting a few buttons. “You can buy the camera for one hundred fifty.”

“Do you gift wrap?”

—

The box is staring at Soonyoung. He got home three hours ago and since then up until now, the box had been staring at him. He’s sitting on the sofa under a blanket, holding a warm cup of tea. The box is on the coffee table, _not_ gift wrapped, still saying _not for sale_ , still staring at him.

Apparently, he was in that shop for fifteen minutes while Junhui was calling him over and over again, and he apologized about a hundred times, telling Junhui he got distracted.

Instead of keeping Wonwoo in his box, Soonyoung bought him a new one. A tangible one, this time, four corners and everything. He stepped out of what was deemed necessary in this equation, and even if he subtracts _any_ _special meaning_ , divides it by _any kind of_ _effort_ , and groups the _thinking like a reasonable human being_ variants on one side—Soonyoung still, one: sucks at math, and two: bought his fuckbuddy an expensive and considerate Christmas gift, calculating his sanity at an overwhelming zero.

“What’s that?”

Jihoon walks into the living room in a t-shirt and sweatpants. Soonyoung feels colder just looking at him, shivering under the blanket at the sight. Jihoon points at the box, his lips curving to a small pout. “What did you do?” He asks blamingly, stretching out his words.

Soonyoung frowns. “Why do you immediately assume I did something wrong?”

“I can smell it,” Jihoon says, pushing Soonyoung to make himself room on the couch. “And besides, you’re sitting and staring at a box. Either the box did something to you, or you did something to the box.”

Soonyoung sighs. “I think we have a love-hate relationship, me and the box.”

“What’s in the box?” Jihoon asks, reaching his hands to grab and inspect it.

He really doesn’t want to say it. “Wonwoo’s Christmas gift,” he sounds pathetic. “And before you start—“

“So you really are fucking daft,” Jihoon snorts, clearly amused. “What’d you get him?”

Soonyoung loves Jihoon—he’s his best friend. That doesn’t mean he would pass on an opportunity to punch him in the face right now. “A camera.”

“Fancy,” Jihoon makes an impressed face, and puts the box back down on the table. “Bet he got you a gift too,” he adds, stealing Soonyoung’s cup of tea from his hands and taking a sip.

Soonyoung grimaces. “Please, for the love of god, don’t say that.”

The last thing Soonyoung wants is to _exchange_ gifts—even when he knows Jihoon is probably right. He wishes he wasn’t, and he wishes he was a smarter man than he was earlier today. He also wishes that shopkeeper wouldn’t have guilted him into buying this present, because Soonyoung is easily persuaded once you apply the littlest bit of pressure and that man was the epitome of that. “And if I really think about, it’s a work-related gift,” Soonyoung says. “I mean, he’s a videographer, but, a camera could mean that too, right?”

Jihoon rolls his eyes. “Whatever helps you sleep at night. I, for one—and you _should_ be taking my advice in every given situation—think you need stop playing around and admit some things to yourself. You’re practically dying over this for no good reason. So you shagged a guy and you like him, what’s wrong with that? Don’t fuck it up, Soonyoung,” he places the mug on the coffee table. “He’s decent. And he likes you.”

If only Soonyoung wasn’t as stubborn. “I’m never taking advice from you. Remember the cola incident?”

Jihoon’s eyes widen, and he sniggers, eventually going into an uncontrollable laughing fit while holding his stomach, kicking at Soonyoung’s thighs with the soles of his feet. “Good times.”

“For you!”

Jihoon dismisses him. “Consider what I said. All you’re doing right now is keeping him on the back burner. Is it really worth it?”

Soonyoung doesn’t answer. He lifts the mug, takes the one sip he has left, and goes back to staring at Wonwoo’s box, albeit not sure which one.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is a bit dirtier, a bit sad. enjoy!

Soonyoung leans down to allow the running water wash over his face and wake him up. He grabs his toothbrush, squeezing a decent amount of toothpaste on it. He drags the tube over the bristles to even things out, finishing it off with a drizzle of water.

He’s brushing his teeth lazily with his eyes still half closed; he spent most of last night scrutinizing boxes and searching for answers. After talking with Jihoon, he spent another hour staring at his _real_ box alone in his room. When all Soonyoung could feel was his heart wavering, he stopped. Unfortunately, the other box, his own costume-made Wonwoo one, took over, raising even more questions Soonyoung can’t answer.

He rubs his eyes, toothbrush still in his mouth as foam runs down his chin and neck, wetting his shirt.

Soonyoung opens his eyes.

“Jesus fucking—!”

Soonyoung jumps, almost knocking over the sky-blue toothbrush holder that’s velcroed to the wall next to the mirror, water splashing when his hands flail at the sudden surprise. Junhui, all smiles, in one of Jihoon’s oversized shirts and a pair of sweatpants, is standing behind him.

“Good morning,” he says, unbothered. He stretches a hand to grab Jihoon’s toothbrush, smiling sheepishly as he takes the toothpaste and repeats Soonyoung’s actions from a minute ago.

“Junhui?”

”Yeah?”

Soonyoung blinks, nothing to his body but a shirt and briefs, morning hair and all. “You’re _here_?”

Junhui nods. “Didn’t anyone tell you to close the tap while brushing your teeth? It’s a waste of water,” he says. Soonyoung shakes his head in disbelief, washing the remaining foam in his mouth. Determined, he marches towards Jihoon’s bedroom, swinging the door open.

“Lee Jihoon!” Soonyoung sing-songs his way in.

Jihoon is buried under the duvet, groaning. “What?”

“You fuck—“

“Lower your fucking voice,” Jihoon is muffled but it shuts Soonyoung up, and he takes a seat at the edge of the bed.

“I don’t even know if I should be disgusted or relieved,” Soonyoung hums. “Maybe a little bit of both.”

Jihoon groans again, still invisible under the white fluffy blanket. He’s kicking at Soonyoung’s side but the other remains unbothered.

Jihoon sighs. “I’m gonna ask you to kindly get the fuck out of my room, unless you’re up to see me naked.”

“It’s not like I haven’t before!”

Annoyed, Soonyoung turns around with a sulk to leave Jihoon be. When he steps out to the living room shared kitchen Junhui is searching through cupboards and drawers, pulling out a frying pan Soonyoung didn’t even know existed. He opens the fridge and takes out a box of cherry tomatoes and bacon while humming to himself, seemingly calm. With his back to Soonyoung, Junhui asks, “How do you like your eggs?” His eyes are canvassing the fridge shelves. “I know Jihoon likes them sunny side up and runny, but I never asked you.”

“The same,” he replies, taking a seat on one of the high bar stools they have facing the countertop slash table.

Junhui beams. He organizes his ingredients in perfect rows; the frying pan is already on the gas, heating up. He separates strips of bacon and gently rests them on the pan while opening the drawer under the sink and grabs a knife to cut the cherry tomatoes into halves. Smell fills the room as the bacon cracks and sizzles, dancing.

Soonyoung and Jihoon almost never have a proper breakfast at home, at least not together—their schedules don’t allow it. Jihoon usually wakes up when Soonyoung is already in class or at work, having evening classes and working from home. This is kind of nice, actually. The flat never smells like cooking.

“So, is distracted a new word for buying gifts now?” Junhui asks, unashamed, now placing the tomatoes next to the bacon, and as the butter melts he cracks an egg right onto the pan, landing to a perfect sunny side up.

Soonyoung pinks, but he narrows his eyes. “And here I was, thinking you and Jihoon did _interesting_ things last night,” he mutters, taking one of the cherry tomatoes that didn’t make it to the pan and waiting for it to burst in his mouth.

“You’re not wrong,” Junhui smirks. “But Jihoon did tell me about your box,” he adds, sprinkling a dash of salt and black pepper over the eggs. “He’s… worried about you. _We’re_ worried about you.”

 _Boxes_ , Soonyoung corrects Junhui in his head.

Jihoon and Soonyoung go way back. Jihoon had given Soonyoung talks plenty of times, over different things—more than once about guys—about Soonyoung’s “tendency to overreact”; to “stress out”; to “become a shell of himself” (who knows what that guy’s about). Soonyoung is the kind to protest. He’s stubborn, it’s been established a long time ago—but Jihoon doesn’t let that concern him, informing Soonyoung whenever he’s being an idiot.

It’s not uncommon for them to butt heads over the way they’re schemed, programmed. They’re like two branches on the same tree—rooted in each other—except they grew on opposite sides, feeling the wind from a different direction.

Jihoon is right _a lo_ t of the time.

“Jihoon already gave me a talk last night,” he mutters. “I can handle this myself, thank you very much.”

Junhui shrugs. “I’m just saying,” he starts, using a spatula to pick up the fried eggs with handful of tomatoes and three strips of bacon, resting them on a plate. “Wouldn’t it be nice if it was Wonwoo making you breakfast?” He slides the plate towards Soonyoung.

“Jihoon! Breakfast!”

—

It’s freezing cold. They’re sitting inside a small pub, Christmas decorated and what not—holding warm apple ciders.

“And he just made you guys breakfast?”

“Yeah,” Soonyoung takes a sip from his cider, “but it made sense, you know. They always had this sort of… vibe to them.”

“I get that,” Wonwoo hums. “Like you always knew it was meant to happen.”

“Exactly!”

“I remember when Mingyu and Minghao finally fucked,” Wonwoo says, matter-of-factly. “Mingyu lost it. I had to attend to him, like some kind of—“

“Friend?”

Wonwoo laughs, only a bit embarrassed. “Well, yeah,” he pauses, as if trying to find his words. It’s something he does often, usually accompanied by a swift gaze to the side, eyes sparkling. It lasts less than a second. “He was scared of losing what they already had. He panicked the next morning, when Minghao was—well, he was cool with it,” he laughs again, but it’s smaller this time, like to himself.

Soonyoung’s ears tint red. “And then what happened?”

Wonwoo leans an elbow on the table, his cheek pressed against his palm. “They’ve been together ever since. Once Mingyu stopped worrying, he realized Minghao was in love with him,” Wonwoo takes off his glasses and clears the fog clouding the lenses from the hot cider, using the hem of his sweater. He chuckles quietly, but the sound pulses through Soonyoung like a second heart. “It was easy as that.”

The fairy lights hanging on the walls and from the ceiling twinkle around them. “I guess,” says Soonyoung, rubbing his red and frozen nose. “But how could Mingyu have known? we don’t get passes to other people’s brains. It could’ve ended a lot differently.”

Wonwoo furrows his eyebrows. “Since when are you the pessimist?”

“Not pessimist. Just a realist,” Soonyoung offers. Wonwoo remains unconvinced.

“It’s enough to see the way Minghao looks at Mingyu to know he’s in love with him. Mingyu was just… blind to it. For the longest time,” Wonwoo looks down and nods continuously, almost unaware. When he shifts to look at Soonyoung again, they lock eyes.

Soonyoung swallows thickly, cheeks growing warm and pink. Wonwoo probably senses his uneasiness, prompting another low chuckle from him—and somehow, he manages to soften his gaze without breaking the intensity of it. “Go home?”

Soonyoung hums. Wonwoo extends a hand, and Soonyoung takes it.

—

“What were you like back then?”

Soonyoung’s head is resting on Wonwoo’s thigh, fingers drawing circles on soft skin. Wonwoo only shivers a bit, and he fixes the pillow behind his back for extra comfiness. “It was only three years ago. I don’t know. I guess I was the same, except no inhibitions. Like you are now,” he teases with a smile, tucking a strand of hair behind Soonyoung’s ear. “A typical uni student.”

“I didn’t get myself a Christmas present this year,” Soonyoung offers. “Does that count?”

Wonwoo looks at Soonyoung, bewildered. “You buy yourself a Christmas present _every year_ ? On the money you make, living on your own, in _London_?”

Soonyoung’s eyebrows squeeze together. “It sounds bad when you say it like that!” He grabs a pillow to smack Wonwoo over the head with, only half playfully. “And to think I went and got _you_ a gift, ungrateful—“

“You bought me a Christmas present?” Wonwoo looks at Soonyoung, flabbergasted. “Did you really?”

Soonyoung sits up, drawing the blanket with him. He doesn’t look at Wonwoo; he plays with the hem of the blanket between his fingers—the expression he’s looking to avoid is the one Wonwoo’s probably wearing. He takes a deep breath, prompting Wonwoo to raise his eyebrows. “I did say that, didn’t I?” He says, nonchalant, as if this isn’t a big deal at all—fuckbuddies buy each other presents _all the time_ — _oh_ , _wait_ , that means Wonwoo bought him one too—

Wonwoo laughs, sudden, fast, real. It’s a sound so unique Soonyoung can’t seem to process it until it’s already gone. It’s brisk, but it stays with you. Sticks. Impossible to forget what it sounds like.

Wonwoo laughs like he can’t help not to. He also kisses Soonyoung like he can’t help not to, placing a hand on the back of his neck and pulling him closer. Soonyoung parts his lips, Wonwoo bites the lower; Soonyoung whimpers quietly and licks into Wonwoo’s mouth. This kiss isn’t heated, no tongues in frenzy, not as hungry—it’s steady. Their lips know what to do on their own. They just kiss: intensely, stopping to catch a breath, diving back in. Almost like second nature.

His lips trace down Soonyoung’s chest, leaving tiny marks to be gone tomorrow. It’s good, because despite it being winter, Soonyoung is getting tired of wearing turtlenecks. Wonwoo stops at one nipple, biting it ever so slightly. A soft moan escapes Soonyoung, who is sitting in the middle of the bed with his hands propped behind his back, breathing rapidly.

“Wonwoo?”

“Mhm?” Wonwoo hums around Soonyoung’s nipple, flicking his tongue against it.

Soonyoung giggles. “Nothing,” he says, digging a hand through Wonwoo’s hair. It’s getting longer. “You’d be cute with curls, you know.” Soonyoung says, his voice breaking slightly thanks to his staggered breathing. Wonwoo is placing soft kisses up his neck now, to the shell of his ear, hands roaming at Soonyoung’s sides.

“Hm,” Wonwoo backs to look at Soonyoung, tilting his head. “Where’s this coming from?”

“Just a thought,” Soonyoung replies.

The look Wonwoo gives him is only half amused, like he finds Soonyoung completely ridiculous. Nevertheless, he dotes on Soonyoung, kissing his nose and cheeks, his eyelids. “You’d look cute in anything,” Soonyoung shakes his head.

“What did you get me for Christmas?”

Soonyoung snorts. “I’m not telling.”

Wonwoo smiles viciously, backing away from Soonyoung only to grip him by the waist and push him towards the bed frame. He then settles between Soonyoung’s thighs, spreading them open and shoving his face in Soonyoung’s crotch. Soonyoung inhales sharply, watching Wonwoo with his eyes wide open. “Blowing me won’t make me tell you. This is _such_ a me move, you should know this—“

“How should I?” Wonwoo says. Soonyoung is taken aback, and he opens his mouth to ask Wonwoo what he means, but he can’t manage to get one word out before Wonwoo yanks his briefs and takes Soonyoung’s dick into his mouth, his tongue drawing long strokes against his shaft. Soonyoung digs his heels into the mattress, a quiet sob escaping his lips.

Wonwoo is holding tightly onto the base of Soonyoung’s cock (but not _too_ tight), taking only the tip into his mouth, flicking his tongue against it and making Soonyoung whimper. He bobs his head on Soonyoung’s tip, looking at him with hollowed cheeks and finishing it off with a _pop!_ sound that drives Soonyoung crazy. He’s definitely doing this on purpose, only half sucking him off, because with every strangled moan coming from Soonyoung, Wonwoo’s smartass smile grows. “You’re a jerk,” Soonyoung mutters when Wonwoo’s tongue continues to plaster lazily across his shaft, prolonging Soonyoung’s suffering. This only gives Soonyoung more time to plan Wonwoo’s demise in his head.

The absurdity of the situation is getting on Soonyoung’s nerves with every lick, every time Wonwoo takes Soonyoung into his mouth, it lasts less than five seconds. Soonyoung is gritting his teeth by now, hungry with want and an aching dick. “Wonwoo, _please_ , please fuck me or—“

Soonyoung bucks his hips, groaning. Wonwoo’s tongue is teasing his entrance, moving in circles around his hole, pressing inside it. Every muscle in Soonyoung’s body tenses up, and he digs his nails in the skin of Wonwoo’s back, shouting obscenities. “Fuck, fuck fuck— _what the fuck,_ Wonwoo—!”

Wonwoo’s hand is still gripping Soonyoung’s cock, moving up and down, gaining the speed of his tongue. Soonyoung is about to burst, every groan coming from a deeper place in his throat. Wonwoo chuckles against Soonyoung’s ass, seemingly pleased with the scenario he devised, pressing a finger inside Soonyoung, rocking it in and out of him in steady motion.

And Soonyoung comes in Wonwoo’s hand, shouting his name. He must’ve stepped into some world beyond this one for the last five minutes, because this surely doesn’t feel like reality.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Soonyoung says without even noticing, boneless and breathless in front of Wonwoo.

Wonwoo wipes saliva from the sides of his mouth using Soonyoung’s briefs. “I know,” he laughs, pressing a kiss to Soonyoung’s temple. “I really gave it my all. You’re hot.”

Soonyoung is too pliable to laugh, but he does so anyway. “And you’re a keeper.”

“Will you keep me, then? Will you stay?” Wonwoo throws the blanket over his back, looking at Soonyoung with hopeful eyes.

Reality hits again. Wonwoo’s voice is so sweet, and his eyes are so genuine. That triggers Soonyoung’s fight or flight mode instantly. “I can’t,” he says, gritting his teeth where Wonwoo can’t see, rolling off the bed.

“Why?”

Soonyoung is already pulling his jeans on, maybe too fast. “Because I can’t,” he grabs his shirt from the floor, shaking the folds away. “Not tonight.”

“You never do,” Wonwoo mutters under his breath, burying himself deeper inside the blanket as he curls into a ball on the other side of the bed, his back faced to Soonyoung.

“I do, too,” Soonyoung says immediately, letting go of his shirt, allowing it to fall on the floor again and climbing to sit behind the ball of Wonwoo. “Come out of the blanket, please?”

“No,” Wonwoo says, muffled. Soonyoung sighs.

He starts poking the blanket. “Come out.”

When Wonwoo doesn’t move or say anything, Soonyoung grips the blanket by the sides to uncover him, and he finds Wonwoo sulking like a displeased kid who was robbed out of his candy and given a toothbrush instead. Soonyoung pokes at his side. “Wonwoo, you’re twenty five years old.”

“And?” Wonwoo grumbles. “You’re an idiot.”

That seems to be the consensus. “I’ve been told.”

Wonwoo sits up straight, grabbing a pillow to place on his lap and hold tight. “But what if you weren’t? What if you stayed?”

“I don’t know,” Soonyoung sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“You know, I’m never like this,” Wonwoo says, looking away from Soonyoung. “I don’t do this. I don’t spend time on people, on people who… my time is worth something, Soonyoung,” he sighs, his soft eyes tired. “Maybe it’d be best to put an end to this,” his voice cracks, small and hurt, and his words pierce through Soonyoung like a thousand tiny daggers. In the back of his mind, Jihoon’s words echo as if twisting the daggers, _don’t fuck it up, Soonyoung._

 _No_. Soonyoung shakes his head. “I don’t want us to stop—to stop this—”

Wonwoo laughs, but it’s more sad than anything. “We can’t even name it. Do you realize how screwed up this is?”

There’s a silence that lingers more than it should, and where Wonwoo’s features are usually warm and soft, diligently curved out to look fond whenever Soonyoung looks at him, there is only hurt. Disappointment, Soonyoung thinks, is the worst expression of all—and the way it spreads across Wonwoo’s face fucking burns.

“What am I to you, Soonyoung?” Wonwoo asks, defeated.

“Wonwoo, you—”

“Have a headache,” he gets up from the bed to his closet, taking out a pair of sweatpants. “You can go.”

“I can stay,” Soonyoung tries, watches as Wonwoo slides the pants on and shuts the closet drawer. “Wonwoo, I’ll stay, just—don’t be mad, don’t be like this.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, Soonyoung regrets them. The _right words_ are sitting on the tip of his tongue but the lump in his throat has them in a chokehold so tight he can’t even taste what they’d feel like if he were to say them, what _he’d_ feel like if he were to say them.

“I’m not mad,” Wonwoo says, but it’s devoid of any emotion. He walks out of the bedroom, and Soonyoung stays alone for a brief moment before following him into the kitchen, where Wonwoo stands in front of the open fridge.

The imagery of Wonwoo, shirtless, standing in front of the fridge looking for a snack, almost forces Soonyoung’s heart to cave. He shakes the thoughts running in his head about waking up to this, shoves the prospect of Wonwoo turning around with a smile to ask Soonyoung what he wants for breakfast. He can’t leave Wonwoo while he’s still upset. The window in the kitchen is open and a brisk wind is felt throughout the room, Soonyoung can see it in the form of goosebumps on his hands and chest and on Wonwoo’s back, shivering slightly.

“Soonyoung, please go. I’ll see you some other time,” Wonwoo says quietly without turning around, closing the fridge door without actually taking anything.

“But—“

Wonwoo turns around with a smile, the same way Soonyoung just imagined in his head, but it’s undeniably sad. It hurts, not the smile—but the fact Wonwoo is still smiling at him when Soonyoung clearly doesn’t deserve it. “Just go.”

Soonyoung leaves.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> with this we say goodbye to london boys. thank you so much to everyone who read this fic, i hold all of you dear to my heart and i can't thank you enough for sticking with me. to all my friends, you know who you are-i love you guys. i will come back and edit this when i don’t feel like a deflated balloon <3
> 
> !!!!! *there is a link to a song attached to a word somewhere along this chapter. i would appreciate it endlessly if you listened to the song while reading when you reach that part. you don't have to, but it would make it better. and it would make me happy. thank you so much, please enjoy!

When Soonyoung gets home, Junhui is sitting on the couch with a sleeping Jihoon in his lap, the last scene of _Love Actually_ playing in the background. Soonyoung drops his bag at the door and takes off his boots, dragging his aching body to the remaining space on the sofa. He sighs.

“Are you okay?” Junhui asks, eyes glued to the television as Emma Thompson sends a smile to Alan Rickman at the airport.

“I don’t know,” Soonyoung says.

“Try?”

Soonyoung swallows. “I’m fine,” he turns and says with a smile, praying Junhui doesn’t see right through him. “I’m gonna take a shower.”

The water from the showerhead burn his back, but he remains motionless under the stream. Soonyoung is the kind of guy who believes everything happens for a reason, underlining his successes and mistakes as things that were _always_ meant to be. But this time it feels like his highlighter was brutally shaken in his hand, having no control of how and where it lands. If anything happens for a reason, it means meeting Wonwoo happened for a reason, and that hurting him was too.

Every bone is Soonyoung’s body refuses to accept that. It burns even without the scorching hot water, under his skin. He wants to scream, to protest, to make sure the world knows hurting Jeon Wonwoo was never one of his intentions. Can Soonyoung get the lump in his throat removed? Is there a surgery, crafted especially for people like him, who suffer from throat lumps?

When Soonyoung returns to the living room, his friends are passed out on the sofa, bodies tangled. He takes a blanket to cover them both, supposing waking them up would be too much of a hassle.

In his room, on his desk, sits Wonwoo’s gift. Soonyoung wishes his eyes were lasers so one look could make the box blow up.

Soonyoung just wants to be boxless. Maybe all this time of trying to keep Wonwoo in his box Soonyoung built one around himself: high walls, thick, unbreachable. Maybe it was there to begin with. Maybe it became even higher and thicker with every fond look from Wonwoo, every kiss, every fit of laughter. Soonyoung lays on his bed, staring at the ceiling, his mind stuck on a question.

—

Not even one text from Wonwoo.

For days.

Soonyoung wants to text him, he really does. His thumb is permanently ghosting over the keyboard: typing, deleting, rephrasing. But he can never hit send. Every time his phone pings he gets a small heart attack, but when he looks at the screen it’s never Wonwoo.

So Soonyoung paces.

Soonyoung is very good at pacing. He paces from his room to to the kitchen, he sits down on the couch, hand under his chin. He circles the flat who knows how many times a day, going from one end of the living room to another. He paces and he paces and he paces until his legs start to hurt and no messages arrive except for the usual ones Jihoon sends about staying the night at Junhui’s.

Alas, the pacing doesn’t help. Pacing only keeps him in one place. He stays up late and wakes up late and he rarely leaves the house because he has nowhere to go because he doesn’t have Wonwoo, and London doesn’t look as pretty anymore, even its colors won't make the gray go away. When it rains it doesn’t trickle, only strong rain and thunderstorms. London is lonely and cold, and Soonyoung doesn’t know what to do.

He’s in bed, tired even though he slept too much, staring at the ceiling. His phone is on his chest, screen side down.

The shaking of keys, door unlocks, then shut.

“Soonyoung?”

Jihoon sets his keys on the table, footsteps approaching Soonyoung’s room. One, two, three,  four, stop. Jihoon leans against the door frame.

Soonyoung has a pillow on his face.

“I see we’ve made no progress,” Jihoon says, crossing his arms. Soonyoung groans, swinging his arms in the air and dropping them back on the mattress with a thump. “Have you eaten?”

Soonyoung tilts his head to the side and lets the pillow slide off his face. “Does cereal count?”

Jihoon sighs, stepping inside the room and taking a seat on the spinning chair in front of Soonyoung’s desk. “That depends when you ate the cereal,” he sits with his legs crossed.

“Then I haven’t,” Soonyoung replies, sitting up. He takes the pillow and fluffs it, settling it behind his back.

“It’s already half past seven. We’re leaving for Winter Wonderland at eight.”

Oh, shit. Soonyoung completely forgot about Winter Wonderland. “Where’s Junhui?”

“He’s meeting us there,” Jihoon gets up from the chair, and surprisingly, comes to lay next to Soonyoung on the bed. Soonyoung turns to look at him, confused. “You need to get dressed. And we need to take the tube to Hyde Park.”

Soonyoung grabs another pillow and buries his face in it, groaning again. ”Don’t wanna,” he mutters against the pillow, incomprehensible.

“If you don’t come with us, you have to text Wonwoo,” Jihoon declares, throwing his legs on the floor and standing up to hover above Soonyoung. “Which is it?”

Soonyoung fixes Jihoon a look from behind the pillow. “Fine,” Soonyoung says through gritted teeth. “Let’s go.”

—

It’s eight fifteen when they arrive at Hyde Park. Hundreds of people fill it, from adults to children, Soonyoung and his friends amongst them. Winter Wonderland is always breathtakingly beautiful, never ceasing to amaze Soonyoung each and every year: from the thousand, dazzling orange lights enveloping every ride and structure, to the giant Christmas tree standing in its midst. The park shines orange and green and purple, red and blue. The smell of food is everywhere and Soonyoung can feel his stomach sending signals to his mind, or the other way around, but he can’t process anything but the spectacular view, despite seeing it every year. They’ve pre-bought tickets for almost all attractions, including the ice skating rink, the observation wheel and bar ice for later.

Ice skating is sort of like dancing, Soonyoung thinks. He’s a natural, obviously, and Junhui doesn’t fall behind. Jihoon doesn’t either, but he has a bit more trouble getting into it than Junhui and Soonyoung do, but he gets by after a few rounds. With Junhui’s hands holding his, it’s easier, Soonyoung guesses; having somewhere, someone to fall back to. Soonyoung skates alone, in front of them, looking around the rink, under the stars. It’s as if London reshapes itself to match the season; but of course London does. It does so every year. It became a habit for Soonyoung to think, _every year._ Until this year, every year was quite the same; in every manner, so to speak.

But Winter Wonderland doesn’t feel the same. He can hear his friends’ laughter from behind him, Jihoon muttering _you don’t have to hold my hand so tight, I’m not a baby_ , Junhui laughing even louder. Soonyoung smiles to himself, because Christmas is still Christmas and he’s still Soonyoung, and maybe because the stunning scenery all over is too mesmerizing to be actually sad. And what does he have to be sad about, anyway?

“Having fun?”

Junhui wraps a hand over Soonyoung’s shoulder, squeezing tight. Soonyoung knows he and Jihoon have been talking about him in secret, sharing information they think might be helpful; it doesn’t matter when Soonyoung tells them he’s okay, and that he just didn’t think it’ll be over so soon. It being Wonwoo and him, him and Wonwoo, whatever that was.

“Of course,” Soonyoung smiles. Smiling is another habit of Soonyoung’s. He’s good at smiling, as he’s good at pacing. They say that if you smile, it’s a good way to trick your brain you’re truly happy. A smile can make you feel better for the few seconds it lasts. Soonyoung has been testing it for the past week. Perhaps it doesn’t work on everyone. “You?”

Junhui presses his lips and takes a quick glance at the boy behind them. Jihoon is skating while looking down, then up, then he catches Junhui’s gaze and looks away. Junhui returns to look at Soonyoung. “Definitely,” he says, content. It’s remarkable how easily the two shifted from friends to more. In the back of Soonyoung’s mind, he wonders what it takes.

They skate some more: Jihoon and Soonyoung together, Soonyoung alone again, Soonyoung and Junhui, then all three, holding hands (despite Jihoon’s relentless protests), until Junhui asks if they want to go to the hot chocolate van, to which both Jihoon and Soonyoung oblige happily.

At a table bench near the van, the three hold hot chocolate cups with extra care, thanking for the extra warmth. It’s divine, the hot chocolate in Winter Wonderland; Soonyoung is ready to lay down his life for the two lovely women who run the van. They sip on the sweet drink and talk about their plans for tomorrow; Junhui and Jihoon won’t be around, apparently. Being alone on Christmas Day sounds depressing. Soonyoung smiles nonetheless.

Twenty minutes go by of just the three talking. Junhui mentions something about how he hates living so far from Jihoon, but Jihoon shuts him up pretty fast. Soonyoung can’t say he’s present in the conversation, but it isn’t seen to the naked eye. He nods every once in a while, sending small smiles.

“Soonyoung? Soonyoung?”

He snaps out of it. “Yes?”

Junhui furrows his eyebrows. “We said we’re going to walk around for a bit before heading to the ferris wheel. Are you coming?”

Soonyoung contemplates. “I think I’m good. Text me when you guys wanna meet up.”

“Are you sure?” Jihoon questions.

“Of course.”

The two will have more fun without him, anyway, so it’s for the best. Soonyoung downs the last sip of his drink as Junhui and Jihoon wave him goodbye, slowly becoming small figures from a distance, until they completely disappear in the crowd.

Soonyoung taps on the lid of his cup, staring at nothing. He swallows. Why is he like this? It’s almost as if the lump in his throat got a new friend: the aching hole in his chest. Or maybe it’s his stomach, but that’s besides the point. The hole in his chest is as imaginary as the lump in his throat.

Soon he’s going to be made of holes and lumps.

He sighs, and it’s more dramatic than it should to be since he’s by himself. He runs his fingers over the ring of the cup, palm on cheek, his elbow leaned against the old wood table.

“Soonyoung?”

His first reaction is to freeze. Then, Soonyoung turns around slowly, for what feels like forever, but it doesn’t prevent the aching hole to burn when he finally makes the full one-eighty. “Wonwoo?”

He’s wearing a fuzzy bomber-jacket and a blue shirt, pair of black jeans. He looks beautiful, cozy and warm.

But when Soonyoung regains his focus, he can see something important is outrageously missing: Wonwoo’s smile. He looks at Soonyoung, bags under his soft sharp eyes. “How are you?”

Soonyoung shakes his head. “How are you?”

Wonwoo laughs quietly, and it’s making Soonyoung grit his teeth. It sounds the same but so different, despite only being a week. Wonwoo opens his mouth to speak, but before he can say anything a hand taps on his shoulder and a guy comes to stand next to him. “You coming?”

Wonwoo nods. “Sorry, this is Soonyoung. I’ll join you guys, if that’s okay?”

The guy, quite frankly, looks intimidating. His gaze is fixed on Soonyoung and it almost feels like he can see right through him. “Naturally. If you need anything—“

At the guy, Wonwoo does smile. “I know where to find you.”

Wonwoo comes to sit in front of Soonyoung, leaning his elbows on the table, fingers intertwined to a fist under his chin.

First, there’s silence.

“I’m—“

“Look—“

They laugh. Soonyoung keeps avoiding looking directly at Wonwoo’s face, afraid of what he might find, but it’s not that hard when Wonwoo doesn’t care to look at him either. He still isn’t sure who should speak first, his heart pounding inside his chest.

“Ride the ferris wheel with me.”

Soonyoung’s heart might as well jump out of his chest and start walking.

“Okay.” Wonwoo stands up and takes his hand, locking their fingers together as he walks them towards the line to the ferris wheel.

The hold Wonwoo has on Soonyoung’s hand only tightens while they wait for their turn. The colourful lights are blinding and he can’t look anywhere but his shoes or the hand holding his. There’s noise all around them but it’s strangely muted and all Soonyoung can hear is himself swallowing and the drumming of his heartbeat in his ears. Wonwoo is quiet, only a bit fidgety while they wait; but Soonyoung is close to shaking, already preparing himself for the worst possible scenario, the image of Wonwoo’s disappointed face back in his apartment flashing before his eyes. “[Wonwoo](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JzIK5FaC38w)—“

“Don’t say anything.”

When it’s their turn, they take their seat and secure themselves. The wheel starts moving up.

 _Wonderland_ feels so fitting when they reach the top and the wheel stops. It’s beautiful, like things you read in books or see in movies, so surreal it seems like if Soonyoung were to close his eyes now, it would all be gone when he opens them. Wonwoo is still painfully quiet, gazing at all the wonder happening beneath them. He clears his throat, finally letting go of Soonyoung’s hand—he had managed to grow used to it in just a few minutes, and now, having it taken away—he terribly misses its weight. Wonwoo’s face changes from serious to scared, then serious again when he turns to look at Soonyoung.

“I’m deathly afraid of heights, actually,” Wonwoo says.

Soonyoung’s jaw drops. “You’re what?”

“It’s funny, isn’t it?” Wonwoo asks, his voice coming out shakier than Soonyoung thinks is intended, a soft smile spreading across his face. He shakes his head in what appears to be disbelief. “I saw you—and everything went _poof._ I think I might be going insane,” Soonyoung opens his mouth to speak, but Wonwoo stops him. “I don’t remember anything. The last few days all I could think about were the things I wanted to say if I ever saw you again. And when I saw you again, all I could think about was the ferris wheel. I always tell Mingyu they should go without me, because I don’t go on half the rides anyway,” he looks down at his hands, then at Soonyoung again. “But all I could think about was riding the ferris wheel with you.”

Soonyoung needs to remind himself to breathe. “Why?” he asks genuinely.

Weirdly enough, Wonwoo takes Soonyoung’s hand and pulls the glove off, shoving it inside his bomber-jacket pocket. He takes his off too and links their fingers together again. Time slows down, and the question burns on Soonyoung’s skin, searing through his chest. Wonwoo doesn’t tear his gaze away from Soonyoung once. “Because I knew I wouldn’t be scared as long as I was with you.”

When Wonwoo says that, everything starts to get blurry. Soonyoung only notices the tears when he feels one landing on his hand, looking down to where it made it wet. Wonwoo rests a thumb under Soonyoung’s chin to tip his head up, his eyes holding all the hope in the world. “I’m so sorry,” Soonyoung hears himself say. Wonwoo is still blurry, but he wipes Soonyoung’s eyes clear from tears with the hem of his sleeve.

Wonwoo places a hand at the back of Soonyoung’s neck, pulling him in for a kiss. If Soonyoung could describe what it feels like, he’d say home. Wonwoo’s lips are soft against Soonyoung’s chapped ones. The wheel starts going back down.

They kiss for what seems like forever. Wonwoo’s hands are clinging onto Soonyoung for dear life, and when they finally separate Soonyoung feels like he can actually breathe for the first time in months, the lump in his throat gone. “Wonwoo, I’m in love with you,” he says. Wonwoo laughs against his lips.

“Keep me, then.” Wonwoo says when they reach the ground, his eyes shiny. Soonyoung takes his hand.

“I will.”

Holding hands, they go back to the same table bench; but they sit next to each other, instead of on opposite sides. Wonwoo takes Soonyoung’s glove from his pocket and puts it back on for him, then does the same for himself. Soonyoung places a gentle kiss on Wonwoo’s lips. They can’t stop smiling, laughing at the surrealness of the situation.

Soonyoung’s phone rings.

“Jihoon,” he answers. “I’m still at the bench, you guys can—”

“We can see you,” Jihoon says. Soonyoung’s eyebrows knit together and he looks behind him, where he can see both his friends standing at the line for the nearest ride behind a barricade. Junhui is waving enthusiastically, hands in the air. “He’s a fool for taking you back,” Soonyoung laughs. “Tell him we said hi. And Soonyoung,” Wonwoo is shaking his head as if to ask Soonyoung what Jihoon is saying.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t fuck it up.” Soonyoung still watches as Jihoon hangs up and they wave at them again. He can see them smiling.

“I won’t,” Soonyoung says quietly.

Wonwoo tilts his head. “You won’t what?”

“Nothing,” Soonyoung beams, cupping Wonwoo’s face as he kisses him again. “I love you.”

—

After the two spent a couple hours talking about everything, and Soonyoung confessed to being a huge and utter arsehole, they decided it was time to make an official meetup of their friends. They went to bar ice, all six guys together. The intimidating guy turned out to be Minghao, Mingyu’s boyfriend, and he also turned out to be not intimidating at all. They all clicked pretty fast. Soonyoung was even happy to see Mingyu, and he apologized for the way he acted at _Cuppacha_. It was easy with Wonwoo’s arm curled around his. Mingyu laughed and said it’s all in good spirits, and that he knows how Soonyoung was probably feeling, give or take a few minor details.

When it was time to go home, all four boys decided to retire to Soonyoung and Jihoon’s apartment. Junhui said they can’t possibly go to his place _now_ , after everything fell to its right place.

On the tube home, Soonyoung felt different. Of course he did, he was different, and London was different, his friends and his Wonwoo—now boyfriend—were different. Not in a bad way, in a best way, like the finishing lines of a great book or the sound of London’s trickles on his window. Three months ago, Soonyoung decided to take the tube and ride fifteen minutes to a pub called _The Rose_ , and when he left that pub, he had no idea what he left with.

For three months, Soonyoung had a constant question at the back of his mind. On the train home, Soonyoung realized he had the answer to that question all along: he left with it on that same night, early October. Now, the answer is sleeping solemnly next to him, chest rising and falling with every breath.

Wonwoo moves in his sleep, turning to the other side. He opens his eyes, rubbing them sleepily. “Mhm.”

“Merry Christmas,” Soonyoung whispers, scooting closer and placing a soft kiss on Wonwoo’s cheek. “How’d you sleep?” He asks, resting his head on Wonwoo’s chest. Wonwoo yawns, stretching his arms and eventually wrapping them around Soonyoung, cuddling him.

“I had a crazy dream,” Wonwoo rasps, closing his eyes.

“Tell me,” Soonyoung grips at Wonwoo’s arm, curling his fingers around it.

“I went to sleep, and woke up next to the guy I’m in love with.”

Soonyoung laughs. “That’s funny. I had the same dream.”

They take a shower together, to save water, or maybe because Soonyoung is self indulgent and he hasn’t seen Wonwoo naked for a week, which is definitely a crime. They kiss under the stream, bodies glued together in Soonyoung’s tiny shower, and he almost slips and lands on his back but Wonwoo grabs his wrist and prevents the fall. Soonyoung lends Wonwoo a pair of sweatpants, and returns a shirt that was originally Wonwoo’s.

When they go to the living room, Junhui and Jihoon are sitting on the couch with cups of coffee in their hands and a plate of sugar-coated cookies.

“Merry Christmas boys,” Junhui beams, standing up and going to the counter to boil more water for coffee. “Slept well?” He asks with a raise of his eyebrows, one thing on his mind. Soonyoung’s cheeks flush red all the way up to the tips of his ears and he fixes Junhui a look. Wonwoo just laughs.

Their tree is small and lame, Wonwoo’s brown box sitting on the floor next to the other gifts (Soonyoung put it there last night after Wonwoo fell asleep), and at the sight of the tree, Wonwoo’s eyes widen. “Your present is at my apartment,” he says, pouting.

Soonyoung tells him it’s not a big deal and that they can go grab it later. When Junhui comes back with coffee for Soonyoung and Wonwoo, they start opening presents.

Junhui beams at the sight of Soonyoung’s gifts, goes absolutely ballistic as he tears the wrapping to reveal what’s inside. He holds everything close to his chest and tells Soonyoung he _knows_ him, showing Jihoon the cute kitten socks excitedly. He then opens Jihoon’s gift, a set of beautiful watercolors in 120 shades. Jihoon lets Junhui kiss him on his cheek.

Junhui bought Soonyoung new sneakers to dance in, and after confirming they’re the expensive kind, he tells Junhui he’s insane. Jihoon got him Bluetooth headphones with a note attached, reading _for the guy who hates cables but loves music_. It makes him laugh.

Jihoon opens Soonyoung’s gift first. By the way it’s wrapped, it’s very obvious it’s a vinyl, but Soonyoung doesn’t care.

“Holy shit,” Jihoon’s jaw drops when he slides the wrapping off the record and holds it up close. “Thank you,” he says genuinely, smiling at Soonyoung. “This is exactly what I needed to get off my arse and fix my record player,” he says, already dragging Junhui’s gift towards him. It’s a big box. “Why is this so heavy?”

“Open it and find out,” Junhui says with a smile.

Jihoon doesn’t waste a minute and rips at the beautiful wrapping, uncovering the box inside. “You did not—Junhui—I can’t believe this,” Jihoon is in complete awe, turning to look at Junhui. “How—why—“

“You like it,” Junhui beams. He sneaks a look Soonyoung’s way, biting his bottom lip in excitement.

“I love it,” Jihoon says. “Thank you so much,” he even leans in to place a swift kiss on Junhui’s lips, leaving everyone in complete shock. Junhui blushes so hard Soonyoung has to stop himself from laughing. Jihoon moves to sit on the floor to open the box carefully while letting high-pitched sounds he only makes when he can’t control his excitement. The only gift left is Wonwoo’s.

Soonyoung stands up to hand Wonwoo the box.

“Why does it say _not for sale_?” Wonwoo asks, assessing it from all sides.

Soonyoung smiles. “It’s a long story. Just open it.”

Wonwoo opens the box and takes out the camera. Soonyoung’s favorite smile spreads across his face, the one that makes every other smile fail in comparison. “A Nikon F2? Where did you get this?”

“You can say I was forced into buying it,” Soonyoung admits. “Is it okay?”

“It’s perfect,” Wonwoo says, making Soonyoung’s ears go pink again, and he laughs awkwardly.  “I love you,” Wonwoo says simply, planting a soft kiss on Soonyoung’s temple. “Thank you.”

Junhui makes everyone breakfast, Soonyoung tries his new sneakers and doesn’t agree to take them off. _Either/Or_ is playing on vinyl in the background because Jihoon insisted on setting up the record player immediately. Wonwoo goes on about needing to buy film for his new camera, but snaps a few photos on his camera phone instead.

Soonyoung looks out the window, and London is exceptionally bright. He thinks this is as beautiful as life gets, and just as Wonwoo wraps an arm over his shoulder to hold him closer and kiss him softly on the cheek, a crisp wind blows from the open window and sends a shiver through his spine. A few things in this world are worth keeping, and Soonyoung thinks he got them all.

**Author's Note:**

> @woozitown on twitter! feedback is greatly appreciated!


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